Ading up the ads

It would be a typical Sunday, filled with the usual chores of tidying up after the Lizard of Funs Saturday night exploits, except for one thing: Its the Super Bowl.

A few minutes before game time, the Lizard of Fun emerges like a groundhog seeking sunlight from an enormous bowl of lime-flavored nacho chips. "Is it time? I dont want to miss a single moment."

"I didnt know you were such a football fan," I say, adjusting the rabbit ears on the TV.

"Who said anything about sports?" says the Lizard. "Im watching it for the commercials."

"Isnt that like saying you read Penthouse for the articles?" I ask, helping myself to the chips.

But the Lizard remains adamant. "Ever since the legendary battle between the Budweiser frogs and the Budweiser lizards, its been my sworn duty to monitor the Super Bowl ads. Im keeping score my own way."

The Lizard reaches into the chip bowl and pulls out a salsa-splattered score sheet.

"You see, I rate each commercial on several factors, including its intangible ability to make me forget the football game," it explains. "When its all over, I take the number of points per commercial, add in the winning football teams score, divide them by the results of the New Hampshire polls, subtract the number of bottles of beer still on the wall, and come up with a secret formula."

"Youre going to have to walk me through this one," I say.

"Shhhh, the games starting," says the Lizard, snapping open a Bud. It pays little attention to the kickoff, instead writing furiously on its score sheet as it lounges in its La-Z-Boy. But once the first commercial break begins, it laser-beams its focus onto the television screen, one of an estimated 140 million viewers who are tuned in to the exact same cultural experience.

When it comes up for air  that is, when the game comes back on  it looks at me with glazed-donut eyes. "Wow," it says dreamily. "And thats just the beginning."

By the glitzy half-time show, Im genuinely worried that the Lizard has succumbed to some sort of football-induced testosterone poisoning. I peek over its shoulder to see what its once again scribbling on its score sheet.

The Lizard has been awarding commercials points, from one to five. Heres how the e-Trade singing chimp fits in to its criteria: Creative use of sponsor products: 0. Creative lack of use of sponsor products: 5. Number of appearances by Regis Philbin: 0. Use of animals: 5. ("Does Regis Philbin fit into this category?" is scribbled in the margin.) Overall brilliance: 5. Overall stupidity: 5. Complete lack of football references: 5.

Its also listed its favorite commercials, which include the Mountain Dew cheetah, the Bud Light tiger and the Budweiser Clydesdale foal.

"Clearly," says the Lizard, "Theres more animal commercials than ever. Which can only mean one thing."

"What? That animal actors are going to need to form a union?"

"That too. But not what I immediately had in mind. Im thinking that its time to start getting into advertising myself."

"Youre going to get a job acting in commercials?"

The Lizard gives me one of its "youve-been-watching-too-much-TV-and-its-rotting-your-brain" looks. "Noooo. Im going to advertise me. The Super Bowl telecast is where the biggest products are launched and the hottest trends are given global recognition. Its the ad spot to own, baby."

"Which means?"

"Simple. Im going to get me a spot or two and let everyone know about the Lizard of Fun. The product. The brand. The identity. The lifestyle. Ill be like Martha Stewart: Not just an individual, but an omnimedia."

I picture lizard-shaped hot-air balloons floating high over the heads of confused football fans. "You do realize that these Super Bowl commercials cost $2.2 million bucks for just 30 seconds of airtime, dont you?"

The Lizards jaw drops. "Really?"

"Yup. Any idea how youd cover that?"

Furrowing its brow, the Lizard says, "Well, if I already was an omnimedia, Id have the dough. But since Im not, I need Plan B. Which calls for my secret formula."

"Its my chances of winning on Regis money show, assuming I get through on the contest entry line sometime between now and tomorrow."

"So, let me get this straight. Youd win a million bucks, and then blow it all on 15 seconds of Super Bowl advertising? What for? You dont have a product, you dont have an e-business, and after the game, you wont have a million bucks anymore, either."

The Lizard gives me its million-dollar grin. "But Ill have brand recognition, which is much, much better. Besides, like Regis says, who really wants to be a millionaire?"